J.B. Spins

Jazz, film, and improvised culture.

Monday, August 31, 2015

Japan Society Monthly Classic: Carmen Comes Home

It will be a clash of small town and big city
values—and boy, will the small town enjoy it. The prodigal daughter once known
as Kin Aoyama apparently found fame and fortune dancing in Tokyo under the name
Lily Carmen. She is an artiste, but her art involves G-strings. That does not
mean she and her comrade Maya Akemi can’t be scrupulously serious about their
dance. They are indomitably upbeat, but their visit might be more than her
staid father can handle in Keisuke Kinoshita’s big screen musical Carmen Comes Home (trailers here), the very first Japanese color feature, which
screens this Friday at the Japan Society, as part of their newly re-launched
Monthly Classics series.

Even if Carmen/Aoyama has not amassed a
fortune per se, she has made enough of a go of it to periodically send money
and gifts home to her family. Her loyal sister Yuki is in awe of her, but old
man Shoichi Aoyama instinctively distrusts the modern western influences she
has no doubt absorbed. However, thanks to the intercession of the school
principal, an ardent advocate for Japanese culture, he reluctantly consents to
her visit. Nobody could miss Lily Carmen when she arrives. She is the one
wearing the bright red dress. Clearly, Kinoshita was going to get his color
film’s worth from the wardrobe and spectacular mountain scenery.

Naturally, Carmen and Akemi attract all kinds
of attention in town, including the leering local mogul. Yet, the two women are
more drawn to more plebeian townsmen, like the young school teacher Akemi
impulsively falls for. Similarly, Carmen admits she still carries a torch for the
now married Haruo Taguchi, who was blinded during the war. As the composer of
dirge like odes to his small town, Taguchi is more in line with the Principal’s
idea of a real Japanese artist. Unfortunately, Carmen and Akemi’s va-va-voom
will inadvertently disrupt Haruo’s grand premiere performance, causing no end
of angst.

Hideko Takamine was one the greatest screen actresses
in the history of cinema, but she is best known for achingly tragic films like
Mikio Naruse’s When a Woman Ascends the Stairsand Yearning, as well as
Kobayshi’s The Human Condition, so it
is nice to see her get the chance to kick up her heels a little. She is utterly
charming as the bizarrely naïve Lily Carmen. Yet, underneath the goofy joy, she
gives the subtlest hints of sadness. Nobody else could have pulled that off.

In a way, Carmen Comes Home is like a cross
between Oklahoma and Gypsy, with all their slow or maudlin
parts discarded. Still, it is clear Carmen and Akemi can never really go home
again. The men will only see them as sex objects and the women will fear them
as rivals. Despite their pluck and verve, it is ultimately quite a bittersweet
film, but that is what makes it so distinctive, along with Takamine’s endearing
performance. Recommended for fans of Takamine and movie musicals, the freshly
restored Carmen Comes Home screens
this Friday (9/4) and look for Go Takamine’s Paradise Viewin early October (10/2), as part of the Japan Society’s
Monthly Classics series.

Rififi: the Grand-Père of Heist Movies Returns

Many think writer Auguste Le Breton joined the
French Resistance out of opposition to Vichy’s gambling prohibition. He would
survive to become a French Elmore Leonard, known for his gritty action and
affinity for slang. As it happened, his source novel was too coarse for genteel
American blacklisted director Jules Dassin, who joined the Communist Party in
the mid-1930s, right around the time of the Great Purge and the Moscow Show
Trials. In order to lose the parts that offended his sensibilities, Dassin
expanded the heist scene into half an hour’s worth of wordless action. At one
time banned by several countries for its purported criminal instructional value,
Dassin’s French noir classic Rififi (trailer here) returns to New York
for a special one-week engagement starting this Wednesday at Film Forum.

Tony “le Stéphanois”
(from Saint-Étienne) is decidedly the worse for wear after his recent prison
stint. He willingly took the rap for Jo “le Suédois
(the Swede), whose son Tonio (Tony’s godson and namesake) he dotes on, but his
health and finances are in sad shape. To make matters worse, his ex-lover Mado took
up with his nemesis, gangster-night club owner Pierre Grutter. After explaining
his disappointment to her, Tony will commence planning his next and potentially
last big score.

Jo and their mutual crony Mario Ferrati
originally conceived of the jewelry store job as a simple smash-and-grab, but
Tony wants the prime cuts in the safe. Recruiting Italian safecracker César “le Milanais,” they methodically case the joint and craft their
elaborate timetable. The actual half-hour of heist operations is indeed a
masterwork of noir filmmaking. However, it somewhat unbalances the film. While
there is plenty of good hardboiled stuff in the third act, as the Grutter gang schemes
to appropriate the hot ice for themselves, but it necessarily lacks the same
hushed intensity of the celebrated centerpiece.

Regardless, Rififi (which very roughly translates as “trouble”) has long been
recognized as a noir classic for good reason. Like Le Breton’s books, it has a
street smart persona and a street level perspective. It captures the workaday
milieu of postwar Paris, especially during the odd hours of the day and night
when respectable folks were off the streets. Jean Servais also creates the
template for the older, world-weary noir mentor, dealing with the business end
of his bad karma. He slow burns like a crock pot with dangerously faulty
wiring. Just looking at his lined face makes you want to pop an Advil.

Carl Möhner
(probably next most often remembered for She
Devils of the SS, which is pretty much what it sounds like), is rather
under-heralded for his steady, proletarian work as Jo. However, Dassin himself
(billed as Perlo Vita) indulges in a bit of broad ethnic stereotyping, for
supposed comic effect, as César.

On heist movie
listicals with any sense of history, Rififi
inevitably ranks somewhere around number one. It is a film any noir fan has
to see to consider themselves literate in the genre. Very highly recommended, Rififi opens this Wednesday (9/2) at
Film Forum.

Sunday, August 30, 2015

Creep: a Blumhouse/Duplass Joint

Patrick Brice does not want you to spend the
night at any stranger’s place. Notable only for being exceptionally forgettable,
his second film, The Overnight, chronicles the mounting awkwardness a yuppie dinner party turned sleep-over, at least as far as
anyone can recall. For some reason, it has played just about every major
festival, even though the only memorable thing about it are the jokes about the
guy who isn’t Jason Schwartzman having tiny junk. However, you will definitely
remember Mark Duplass is the title character of Brice’s first feature, Creep (trailer
here), a Blumhouse BH Tilt production, which opens
its belated premiere theatrical engagement this Wednesday at Videology in
Brooklyn.

Like Safety Not Guaranteed, this Duplass film also starts with a classified ad. It
seems a well-to-do dude requests the services of a videographer to film him
over the course of a day.It pays
$1,000, but “discretion is appreciated.” You don’t say. When Aaron arrives for
the gig, Josef tells him he is dying from a brain tumor, but wants document how
he really was for his unborn son. His inspiration is the Michael Keaton movie My Life. That alone should raise Aaron’s
suspicions.

In fact, it does not take long for the video
freelancer to conclude there is something very off about his client. Josef’s
family vacation home is also unsettlingly remote. Nevertheless, one grand is
one grand, so he sticks with it. At first, Josef just seems annoyingly
eccentric, but he eventually tells Aaron some pretty whacked out stuff.
Clearly, Josef is playing some sort of game with him. Unfortunately, viewers
will have a better idea than Aaron where it is all headed, because they know
they came to a horror movie.

Yes, this is a found footage film, but given
the set-up, it makes sense to have all the bedlam documented on Aaron’s camera.
Frankly, there is nothing radically original here, but it is seamlessly cut
together by editor Christopher Donlon (fortunately, narrative developments
allow for and even require a bit of snipping together). As a result, it is a
tight film dominated by Duplass’s performance. He is massively creepy, so to
speak, always just peaking over the precipice of camp, without ever plunging
over the top.

Brice and
producer-horror mogul Jason Blum owe a major debt of thanks to the owner of
that mountain home. Its staircase is likely to become iconic among genre fans. Of
course, Blumhouse does plenty of this sort of thing. They did not invent the found
footage sub-genre, but one could argue they took it to the next level, nearly
cornering the low budget studio market in the process. This is one of the
better examples, powered by Duplass’s unabashed scenery chewing. Recommended
for fans of Duplass and Blumhouse, Creep opens
this Wednesday (9/2) at Videology (but it is also already available on VOD and
even streams on Netflix).

Saturday, August 29, 2015

MWFF ’15: Ernie Biscuit (short)

Cinema has not been kind to taxidermists.
Norman Bates is the classic example amongst a small sampling. Ernée Bisquit is nothing like him, except for his extreme shyness and
awkwardness around women. Spurred by an unlikely catalyst, the sad sack Bisquit
takes drastic steps to rejuvenate his drab existence in Adam Elliot’s Claymation
short, Ernie Biscuit, which screens
during the 2015 Montreal World Film Festival.

Bisquit was always a bit of an outsider, but
it was a cruel childhood prank that rendered him deaf. He inherited his family’s
Parisian taxidermy shop, but he never had much passion for it. The last time he
felt a deep personal connection was with a young Jewish girl, whose family
lived in the flat next to Bisquits’ in early 1940s. Tragically, they were never
seen again after the infamous round-up, but Bisquit still cares for her pet
duck. Realizing taxidermy is out of fashion in 1966, Bisquit impulsively sells
his shop intending to relocate to Venice, where he and his first and only love
dreamed of visiting.

However, Bisquit and his duck get on the wrong
plane, ending up in Australia instead. Complications and misadventures
necessarily ensue, including the Australianization of his name. Yet, Bisquit
also manages to meet a flesh-and-blood woman. She has plenty of issues too, but
that might just make it perfect, provided he survives the rest of the chaos
engulfing him.

If Biscuit
qualifies for Academy Award consideration, it should be the odds on
favorite. Elliot already has one Oscar for his short Harvey Krumpet as well as considerable name recognition amongst the
animation community for his feature film Mary and Max. His style is instantly recognizable, particularly his sensitively grotesque
characters. Clearly, Elliot has a keen empathy for underdogs like Bisquit, but
there is still a sense of playfulness throughout Biscuit. Somehow, the film manages to be consistently funny and
genuinely touching, without ever getting shticky or saccharine, which is a neat
trick really.

The distinctive music
heard over the closing credits is Simon Park’s orchestration of the Van Der Valk theme, “Eye Level.”
Evidently, music written for Dutch canals works just as well for those preoccupied
with Venice. Regardless, it is another eccentric element that turns out
perfectly. Occasionally somewhat macabre, but ultimately quite beautiful, Ernie Biscuit is very highly recommended
when it screens this Tuesday (9/1) and the following Monday (9/7), as part of
this year’s Montreal World Film Festival.

Friday, August 28, 2015

MWFF ’15: North by Northeast

Cai Bing is sort of like a Chinese Miss Marple,
but in addition her fellow villagers’ business, she also knows a heck of a lot
about breeding hogs. It was not always so. The former university professor was
sent down to the provincial breeding station during the height of the Cultural
Revolution, but she adapted to her new environment remarkably well. She has
just been rehabilitated, but before she returns to her old life she will help
the local bumbling police captain hunt down a mysterious sex offender in Zhang
Bingjian’s North by Northeast (trailer here), which screens during
the 2015 Montreal World Film Festival.

By applying Chinese medicine to pig husbandry,
Cai produced some big hogs. She also found more personal contentment than she
expected, even “adopting” Xiao Cui as her granddaughter. Frankly, she has made
the best of the Cultural Revolution, all things considered, but she still does
not suffer fools gladly. According to her withering judgement, Li Zhanshan, the
village constable, is one such idiot.

Li and his tiny militia have been chasing the
serial rapist known as “Liumang,” a loaded colloquial term meaning thug, pervert,
or something in between. Unfortunately, the case gets personal for Cai when
Xiao is raped by Liumang. Using Chinese medicine and deductive reasoning, Cai
will try to guide “Footprints” Li’s investigation in more promising directions.
Yet despite her wisdom, the mystery will outlast the waning Cultural Revolution.

While Northeast
boldly invokes Hitchcock right there in its title, it is a bizarre tonal
mishmash. It is probably safe to say you will never find a sunnier, more upbeat
film about sex fiends and the Cultural Revolution. Seriously, do not try this
at home, but somehow Zhang pulls it off. Of course, it all starts with Li Bin’s
wildly charismatic and wonderfully acerbic performance as Cai. Acidic on the
outside, but sweet and sentimental deep down, like Marianas Trench deep, she
raises the cozy sleuth bar well above anything Margaret Rutherford or Angela
Lansbury ever did. If you were ever a victim of a crime, you would want her
giving the cops what-for on your behalf.

It is a tall order hanging with Li, but Ban
Zan grows into the job, playing “Footprints” Li with far less shtick than his character’s
pear shape and general level of incompetence would suggest. In fact, he gets as
serious as the plague during the masterfully dark third act. He is indeed a
major reason why this film will surprise you.

Where Xin Yukun’s A Coffin in the Mountainfeels like a twisty
top tier Coen Brothers’ movie as exemplified by a Fargo, Northeast is more
closely akin to their bold but uneven mid-level films, like Hudsucker or O Brother. Still, that means there is more to recommend it than
ninety-five percent of films can lay claim to. Li Bin is unquestionably the
X-factor. Her turn as Cai is a thing of beauty and a force of nature. Recommended
for her vinegary power and Zhang’s considerable style, North by Northeast screens this coming Tuesday (9/1) and Friday
(9/4), as part of this year’s Montreal World Film Festival.

Thursday, August 27, 2015

The Storm Makers, On POV, Presented by Rithy Panh

Wars have been fought to end slavery, but the
cruel trade in humanity still flourishes internationally. Unfortunately, it is
hard to take macro military action when neighbors and family members are the
ones selling future generations into slavery. Guillaume Suon and co-writer-assistant director Phally Ngoeum examine human trafficking in Cambodia from three uncomfortably
intimate perspectives in The Storm Makers
(promo here), produced
and “presented” by Academy Award nominee Rithy Panh, which premieres this
coming Monday on PBS as part of the current season of POV.

The titular Storm Makers are the human
traffickers who barnstorm through provincial villages, luring the young and
unemployed into bondage with false promises. Their victims are predominantly
but not exclusively women, much like Aya. It was her own mother, perhaps
half-knowingly, who sold her into slavery. However, like a flesh-and-blood
ghost, Aya returned with stories of harrowing sexual abuse and a toddler, who
was the product of repeated rapes. It has not been a happy homecoming for
either woman.

In some ways, Aya’s mother is not so different
from Ming Dy, who works as a “tout” recruiting girls from neighboring villages.
She also sold her own daughter, which has irrevocably poisoned her relationship
with her outraged Buddhist husband. Suon and Ngoeum follow the food chain up to
Pou Houy, an unrepentant Storm Maker and massively hypocritical Evangelical
Christian. His “employment agency” is a transparent front for trafficking, yet
he has a steady stream of walk-in victim-clients. Perhaps the most shocking
aspect of Suon’s film is just how many people knowingly take a very bad gamble,
simply because they see no other options.

Storm Makers is a quietly
observational talking-head-free-zone, but it captures enough evil in action to
make anyone’s blood run cold—provided they are of good conscience. Suon make it agonizingly clear just how corrosive a problem trafficking is in
the long term, even for a relatively “lucky” survivor like Aya. In fact, the
damage wrought to her psyche will knock you back on your heels.

Frankly, it is a little baffling how a film
produced and blessed by Panh (who helmed the Oscar nominated The Missing Picture) never secured a
high profile festival screening in New York, even though it snagged awards at
Full Frame and Busan. Regardless, hats off to POV for programming it. Yet, screenings and broadcasts of Storm Makers are even more desperately
needed in Cambodia, as well as Thailand, Malaysia, and Taiwan, where so many
trafficked Cambodians end up.

This might sound wildly eccentric, but perhaps
the Cambodian government’s time would be better spent cracking down on
traffickers like Pou Houy than censoring and campaigning against
soon-to-be-forgotten Hollywood movies like No Escape. Of course, there is no way the illicit trafficking trade could
thrive for so long, without plenty of high level looking the other way. While Storm Makers can be unsettling to watch,
it holds viewers riveted in a vice-like grip. Guaranteed to inspire outrage and
diminish your appraisal of human nature (so therefore highly recommended), The Storm Makers debuts on POV this coming Monday (8/31).

Wednesday, August 26, 2015

When Animals Dream: A Danish Werewolf Coming of Age Story

Female shape-shifters in the movies tend to be
highly sexualized, like Nastassia Kinski in the Cat People remake or Sybil Danning in Howling II. In contrast, Marie is pretty repressed, but she is a
product of her coastal Danish environment. You could easily imagine John Calvin
preaching in their wooden church. However, she will undergo some dramatic
changes in Jonas Alexander Arnby’s When
Animals Dream (trailer here),
which opens this Friday in New York.

As the film opens, Marie is rather concerned
about a persistent rash and strange tufts of hair growing in places where they
shouldn’t be. Her elevated stress level will not help. She has just started
work at a fish cannery, which is even less glamorous than it sounds. She makes
fast-friends with a couple of the cool kids, including Daniel, who might even be
potential boyfriend material. Unfortunately, she also quickly finds herself on
the wrong end of the sexual harassing “pranks” of the sociopathic Esben and his
cronies.

Frankly, the entire village is rather
standoffish towards Marie. They fear she will turn out to be her mother’s
daughter. For some time, her father has kept her formerly wild and beautiful
mother zoned out on tranquilizers and anti-psychotic medication. Of course,
when her werewolf nature starts to assert itself, the village doctor inevitably
prescribes the same treatment for her, with her father’s acquiescence.

WAD is a wildly moody, thoroughly hypnotic, revisionist feminist take
on lycanthropy. There will be plenty of painful deaths down the stretch, but it
is more a riff on the mad-woman-in-the-attic trope than an exercise in gore. Nevertheless,
when the film gets down to snarling business, it is unabashedly cathartic.

Lycanthropy as feminist survival strategy is
all very good, but it is Sonia Suhl who really sells it as Marie. Beautiful,
but in a freakishly ethereal way, Suhl’s very presence is unquantifiabaly disconcerting.
Yet, she still gives an impressively real performance in her feature debut, viscerally
expressing all of Marie’s social awkwardness and pent-up resentment. It is her
movie, but the other Mikkelsen (Mads’ brother Lars) adds further layers of
anguished ambiguity as Marie’s father, Thor, who will slowly strangle his loved
ones to ostensibly save them from the potential mob with pitchforks that constitute
their village.

Hollywood could
conceivably remake WAD, but it has a distinctly
dark, Scandinavian soul. There is a Nordic chill in its bones. Northern Jutland
native Suhl also could not possibly be anymore Danish. As horror films go, WAD is definitely a slow build, but it
is also a steady build that pays off handsomely. Recommended for adventurous
werewolf fans, When Animals Dream opens
this Friday (8/28) in New York, at the Village East.

No Escape: the Reign of Terror Commences

It looks a lot like Thailand, but the use of Khmer
lettering somewhat upset Cambodia. The anarchy and mass killings engulfing the
fictional Southeast Asian city also rather parallel the brutal fall of Phnom
Penh, which could be the real reason for the Cambodian government’s censorship decision. On the other hand, the head of state’s official garb bears a vague
resemblance to that of the King of Thailand. Unfortunately, we will not have
time to learn if he is also a jazz lover and amateur musician, like Bhumibol
Adulyadej. The dear leader is about to become the dearly departed, unleashing
murderous bedlam in John Erick Dowdle’s No
Escape (trailer here),
which opens today in wide release.

After his tech start-up crashed and burned,
Jack Dwyer accepted a middle-manager position with Talbott, an international engineering
firm. He is in the process of relocating his family to a country that is one
hundred percent not Cambodia but happens to border Vietnam, where he will help
construct a water plant. For this he should die, according to the ninety-nine
percenters that are about to launch an insurrection. It is nothing personal,
just ideology.

As the terrorists work their way through the
Dwyer’s hotel, summarily executing guests room-by-room, Dwyer scrambles to lead
with wife Annie and two daughters to safety. He will get some heads-up
assistance from Hammond, a suspiciously cool-under fire Brit. However, things
start to get truly desperate when the leftist guerillas call in the helicopter gunships
to strafe their presumed safe haven on the roof.

No Escape would be a nifty
thriller (sort of like Bayona’s The
Impossible, if the tsunami came packing an AK-47), had it not felt
compelled to periodically bring the action to a screeching stop in order to
blame everything on western imperialism, or is it globalism in this case? In
any event, we are responsible, please chastise us. That would be Pierce Brosnan’s
job as Hammond, who assures Dwyer the men who just murdered scores of innocent
bellhops and office workers are only trying to protect their families, like you
Jack. Of course, such moral equivalency is simply farcical.

Believe it or not, Owen Wilson shows some real
action cred as the super-motivated everyman. Brosnan also takes visible delight
in Hammond’s dissipated tendencies, providing some much needed shtick-free
comic relief. Sahajak Boonthanakit also compliments him rather nicely as “Kenny
Rogers,” Hammond’s country music loving local crony. However, the film suffers
from the lack of a focal villain—a Robespierre to incite the mob.

Despite the
shortcomings of the script co-written with his brother Drew, Dowdle certainly
has a knack for filming riot scenes. In fact, the first act is quite
impressively staged managed, as we see the Dwyers cut off from contact with the
outside world, reacting to dangerously incomplete information. At times, No Escape is a very scary film, but it
is frequently undermined by its inclination to lecture. As a result, it falls
short of the visceral intensity and unrepentant black humor of the Eli
Roth-produced Aftershock. No Escape very nearly could have been
great, but instead it is marked by stop-and-start inconsistencies. Still, Brosnan
fans will be happy to hear No Escape
represents a return to form for the Bond alumnus after a half dozen or so
B-level movies, when it opens nationwide today (8/26), including at the Regal
Union Square in New York, but not in undemocratic Cambodia.

Tuesday, August 25, 2015

MWFF ’15: Kimi Kabuki (short)

Fandom can be creepy. Just ask Madeline. She
was rather surprised to learn her husband is quite the admirer of a well-known
porn performer. In fact, he will be attending an adult entertainment convention
to meet her. Madeline will follow him there. Her intentions are unclear, but
there is a good chance a scene will ensue in Yoko Okumura’s short film Kimi Kabuki(trailer here), which screens during
this year’s Montreal World Film Festival.

Yes, Madeline found the stash on Robert’s
computer and has been absolutely beside herself ever since. When she makes her
way onto the exhibit floor, the sheer volume of the assembled naughtiness nearly
overwhelms her. However, as she mills about looking for her about-to-be-busted
husband, she kind of-sort of starts to enjoy herself. Unfortunately, there will
still be the anticipated scene, but at least she gets to meet his favorite porn
actress, Kimi Kabuki, who turns out to be way cooler than she expects.

It is hard to judge whether Okumura’s film is
pro or con when it comes to pornography, but it is safe to say it advocates
more open communication. In fact, the climatic dialogue shared by Madeline and
her unattainable rival stands out so distinctively, because it cuts both ways.
Arguably, the film is forgiving of human weakness and foibles, but it is not a
push-over.

Given the context of the film, it might sound
a little awkward to say we’re big fans of Jo Mei, so let’s argue she deserves
wider recognition for her work in J.P. Chan’s excellent short films (such as Digital Antiquitiesand Beijing Haze) as well as his feature, A Picture of You. In fact, she might be
one of the best and most prolific screen thesps appearing in serious short form
dramas on a regular basis. You could program a super retrospective of her short
film appearances, most definitely including Kabuki.

Once again, Mei delivers a tough, smart
performance that contrasts nicely with Teresa Hegji’s naïve Madeline. While it
is a more emotional role, Hegji keeps it grounded, avoiding cheap histrionics
or any sort of phoniness.

Like many AFI supported films, Kabuki was produced by a lot of talent
on both sides of the camera (see the recent Fandor spotlight for more examples).
One can only imagine the coordination required to recreate the look and vibe of
the adult trade show. (All you Roberts out there should take note, industry
professional Alexa Aimes plays herself.) It is a perceptively written film,
brought to life by an equally sensitive cast. Recommended for mature audiences
(in the best sense of the term), Kimi
Kabuki screens this Saturday (8/29) as part of the 2015 Montreal World Film
Festival.

Memories of the Sword: Love, Vengeance, Tragedy. It’s All Good in the Goryeo Kingdom

Poong-chun, Deok-ki, and their lady
comrade-in-arms Seol-rung were once dreaded warriors leading a rebellion
against Goryeo Era tyranny. Unfortunately, betrayal cut short their uprising,
along with the principled Poong-chun’s life. However, it was not jealousy that
tore the trio asunder. It was more of a case of miscommunication. Of course,
the tragedy compounds mightily when Poong-chun’s daughter seeks to avenge her
murdered parents in Park Heung-sik’s Memories
of the Sword (trailer here),
which opens this Friday in New York.

For years, Seol-hee has been rigorously
trained by Wol-so, a blind tea house proprietor to wreak vengeance on her
enemies. Wol-so has kept many secrets, including her real identity: Seol-rung.
She is not the only one living under a new name. Deok-ki is now Yoo-baek, a
general so competent, he is naturally despised by his colleagues in court. The
feeling is mutual.

When Yoo-baek observes the masked Seol-hee
crash his martial arts contest, he immediately recognizes Seol-rung’s style. When
news of her escapade reaches Seol-rung, it forces her hand. Revealing herself and
Yoo-baek as Seol-hee’s familial enemies, Seol-rung casts out the girl with only
her father’s sword. It is sort of a case of tough love, but it confuses
Seol-hee no end. Nevertheless, it is suddenly healthy for her to be far away
from Seol-rung.

At a youthful twenty-four (looking more like
twelve), Kim Go-eun (who exploded onto the scene a mere three years ago in Eungyo (a Muse)) notches her first
action lead here as Seol-hee. In fact, she is rather perfect for the role,
looking young and vulnerable, but flashing some convincing moves. Yet, Jeon
De-yeon truly delivers the romantic angst and a fair number of beatdowns as the
very complicated Seol-rung. In contrast, international superstar Lee Byung-hun
seems to be somewhat distracted as Deok-ki/Yoo-baek, as if he were waiting for
his next G.I. Joe script to arrive,
but Lee Kyoung-young makes an unusually hardnosed Yoda as the trio’s powerful
and reclusive teacher.

There are some
spectacular martial arts sequences in Memories,
as well as some Crouching Tiger-esque
scenes of skipping across rooftops and treetops that defy logic and gravity,
but still look quite cinematic. Indeed, Park elevates the film with a good deal
of visual poetry. Genre fans will also appreciate how he steadily deepens the impassioned
tragedy with each new revelation. Recommended for action fans who appreciate
classy production values and a bittersweet payoff, Memories of the Sword opens this Friday (8/28) in New York, at the
AMC Empire.

Monday, August 24, 2015

My Voice, My Life: Dreaming of Fame and a Future in HK

If you expected class distinctions would
vanish in Hong Kong after re-integrating with the Mainland, reality has been
profoundly disappointing. For many, the only significant change is the
undemocratic governance mandated by Beijing. Last fall, thousands of HK
students protested for the right to hold legitimate elections. Simultaneously, a
group of disadvantaged HK high school students discovered potential they never
knew they had when they were selected to stage a professional musical theater
production. Six of their fellow students were also recruited to document their behind-the-scenes
drama. None of them were activists, but their efforts to assert control over lives
and futures takes on unintended symbolic implications in Oscar-winner Ruby Yang’s
My Voice, My Life (trailer here), which opens this Friday
in New York.

In Hong Kong, there is a rigid hierarchy among
secondary schools. Underperforming students at the last chance “Band 3” schools
are often looked down upon by their peers and their elders, but their
employment prospects are still better than those facing graduates of the
Ebenezer School for the Visually Impaired. Of course, the latter students recruited
for the awkwardly named L plus H Creations Foundation’s production of The Awakening (featuring a conspicuously
Les Mis-ish sounding finale) are by
far the most reliable during the early days of rehearsal. There will be a pretty
steep learning curve for the other kids, both musically and personally.

Frankly, it was not always clear whether the
production would really come together. In Coby Wang, they had a lead with all
kinds of natural talent, but her acute lack of confidence prevents her from
realizing her diva potential. More problematic are the troublemakers who
undermine discipline and unity with their antics. Yet, as the rehearsals
progress, the hardest cases start to realize their fellow students are relying
on them to get it together.

Yang (who was last nominated for the short
David-and-Goliath doc, The Warriors of Qiugang) and editor Man Chung Ma are extraordinarily dexterous juggling the
various students’ and their backstories. Viewers really get a fully developed
sense of at least eight or nine of the cast-members, while also meeting an
assortment of parents, teachers, and theater professionals, which is quite an
impressive feat of screen-time management in a ninety-one minute film.

None of these kids are bad per se. Some have
just been living down to low expectations. Fortunately, several are extremely
charismatic, while nobody in their right mind could root against the earnest
Ebenezer students. Clearly, Andy Lau agreed. The HK superstar and former bad
kid saw something of himself in the Awakening
cast-members, so he hit the Hong Kong publicity circuit on the film’s
behalf, making it an unexpected box-office success.

Of course, their
story does not end here, but at least Voice
gives us reason to suspect there is much more to come from its subjects (especially
since they are now so well known to Lau). Frankly, they sort of cry out for the
Seven Up treatment. Regardless, they
deserve a chance to pursue a higher education and real career opportunities.
Likewise, they ought to be able to vote for the politicians of their choice. At
least Yang’s documentary should help with the former. Recommended for
idealistic musical theater fans, My
Voice, My Life opens this Friday (8/28) in New York, at the Cinema Village.

Queen of Earth: the Horror of Depression

Depression runs in Catherine’s family. They
are also one of the leading causes of depression in others. Ostensibly, she has
come to her friend’s summer home to relax and get away from her troubles, but
she will really just do her best to make everyone around her miserable in Alex Ross
Perry’s acutely unsettling but undeniably riveting Queen of Earth (trailer here), which opens this
Wednesday in New York at the IFC Center.

Catherine has just been dumped by James, the
boyfriend with whom she was so lovey-dovey during last year’s trip to Virginia’s
family vacation home. The timing is particularly bad, coming soon after the
death of her father—a tragedy made worse by the unspoken circumstances
involved. Back then, Virginia did not like James at all, but she does not seem
to be judging him too harshly now.

As Catherine settles in, as best she can, Perry
flashes back to her happier, co-dependent days with James. Virginia was not
expecting her to bring him the summer prior, so she made no secret of her
resentment. Catherine also immediately clashed with Rich, Virginia’s neighbor
and potential love interest, who is decidedly not intimidated by artsy,
pseudo-intellectuals like Catherine. A year later, James is out of the picture,
but Rich is still there, expecting to get lucky with Virginia and rubbing her
the wrong way.

Vexed by memories and annoyed by Rich and
Virginia’s insensitivity, Catherine slides deeper into depression, perhaps
losing her handle on reality in the process. If you ever doubted depression is
absolutely a genuine health risk, just spend some time with Queen. Many of the dangers are readily
apparent, while some are eerily implied. Yet, despite Catherine’s massively
unreliable POV, it is definitely fair to say profoundly bad things are going on
in that summer house.

You can argue how best to classify Queen, but it bears obvious comparison
to Polanski’s Compulsion and
Elisabeth Moss’s lead performance will completely chill you to your bones, so
some might call it horror. However, it also has the uncomfortable intimacy of
Cassavetes and even, Heaven help us, Ingmar Berman. Moss’s work is bold and
disturbing, but tightly controlled and carefully calibrated. There absolutely
no foaming at the mouth or similar such Meryl Streep shtick on display here. The
film is also quite an ensemble piece, featuring first-rate supporting turns
from Catherine Waterston and Patrick Fugit as Virginia and her friend with
benefits. Frankly, nobody is remotely “likable” in this film, but you cannot
tear your eyes away from them.

Cinematographer Sean Price Williams has
amassed plenty of credits (including the terrific documentary Beetle Queen Conquers Tokyoand the
highly entertaining Drunk Stoned Brilliant Dead), but Queen might
be the film that gets him award recognition. He gives Queen an undefinably retro look, amplifying the dramatic power with
his long-held close-ups. It is a distinctive film in all senses that is likely
to be regularly studied and re-examined for years to come. Recommended for
admirers of psychological dramas (with the emphasis on psycho), Queen of Earth opens this Wednesday (8/26)
at the IFC Center.

Sunday, August 23, 2015

Macabro ’15: Chemical Wedding

While the fact is strenuously ignored by his subsequent
devotees, L. Ron Hubbard was once an ardent follower of the notorious British
occultist Aleister Crowley. That was when Hubbard and Jet Propulsion Laboratory
(JPL) founder Jack Parsons were traveling in the same Pagan circles, so to
speak. The relationship between the three men is indeed referenced in Iron
Maiden lead vocalist Bruce Dickinson’s screenwriting debut, but it is the
connection to Parsons that will have greater significance in Julian Doyle’s
way-better-than-reported Chemical Wedding
(a.k.a. Crowley,
trailer here), which screens as part of a retrospective
tribute (or whatever) to Crowley at the 2015 Macabro, the International Horror Film Festival in Mexico City.

In 1947, Crowley’s earnest young understudy Symonds
was present at his death, but it will not be the last time he sees the dark
magus. Flashing forward to 2000, Symonds has forsworn the occult as a
respected Cambridge professor. As the Florida recount rages, Dr. Joshua Mathers
arrives from Cal Tech to test his Virtual Reality simulator using the
university’s powerful super-computer. Unbeknownst to Mathers, his Cambridge
colleague Victor Neuman is also a budding occultist, who performs an
off-the-books experiment, programming Crowley’s information into the computer
while twittish classics professor Oliver Haddo is wearing the VR suit.

As you might expect, Haddo is a different man
when he steps out of the Z93. His stutter is gone, replaced by an encyclopedic
knowledge of the Bible and a voracious sexual appetite. He is indeed Crowley and
he has big plans. Symonds understands how dangerous it will be if he completes
the resurrection process, so he advises Mathers and Cambridge student
journalist Lia Robinson as best he can. Unfortunately, her red hair will attract
Crowley’s attention, in a very bad way.

Frankly, the prospect of revered British character
actor and Orson Welles biographer Simon Callow going all in as Crowley is reason
enough to see Chemical, but Doyle
& Dickinson also wrote a considerably inventive narrative around him. Admittedly,
the logic and believability of their pseudo-science is hit-or-miss. However, ambition
of its scope is rather impressive. Chemical
stakes out the territory where metaphysics and theoretical physics
intersect—and it is quite a bloody crossroads.

Perhaps realizing he will not have many more
opportunities to exercise his Hammer Horror muscles, Callow makes the most of Chemical, luxuriating in Haddo’s
agonizing stutter and feasting on scenery as the reincarnated Crowley.
Similarly, John Shrapnel is aptly malevolent and larger than life as the 1947
Crowley. Although the film’s aesthetics are stacked against their
conventionally unassuming characters, Kal Weber and Lucy Cudden still manage to
show some presence and energy as Mathers and Robinson, respectively. However,
it is Paul McDowell who really anchors the film and sells its third act
revelations as the older and wiser Symonds.

For a demonic horror film co-scripted by a
heavy metal rock star, Chemical Wedding is
surprisingly tweedy and thoroughly British. It is indeed a throwback to old
school Hammer-Amicus films, but one informed by post-Uncertainty quantum
mechanics. Pretty cool really (and also available on DVD), Chemical Wedding screens this Thursday (8/27), along with the
wonderfully eccentric Karloff-Lugosi vehicle The Black Cat, as part of the Crowley-inspired programming at this
year’s Macabro.

Saturday, August 22, 2015

DC K-Cinema: 71 Into the Fire

It was relatively early in the Korean War, but
it was very nearly the Republic of Korea’s last stand. A ragtag contingent of seventy-one
student-soldiers were assigned to hold off the dreaded 766th Regiment
at the P’ohang-dong Girl’s Middle School while the beleaguered allies dug in at
the Naktong River. They faced Alamo-like prospects, but they were not about to
give up without a fight. Brace yourself for the carnage and heroism of John H.
Lee’s 71: Into the Fire (trailer here), which screens next
week as part of the Washington, DC Korean Cultural Center’s monthly K-Cinema
series.

Oh Jang-beom saw plenty of action before the
South Korea Army was forced to retreat, but he never fired off a shot. Still,
Captain Kang Suk-dae appreciates the implications of his experience, so he
places Oh in charge of the newly formed student-soldier unit. They are to hold
the P’ohang Middle School against the expected Communist onslaught, to prevent
the Naktong forces from getting outflanked. To complicate the situation, surly delinquent
Gu Kap-jo challenges his authority at every turn. The green recruits under his
uncertain command simply have no idea what war entails.

Making matters even worse, the ruthless Major
Park Moo-rang is leading the drive towards the middle school. Even though he is
a true believer, he also happens to be the North’s most capable battlefield commander.
Yet, he still finds his orders second-guessed by the regiment’s political
officer.

71 opens and closes with massive spectacles of warfighting
conflagrations, fitting in several tense skirmishes in between. This is the
sort of film that can give you a concussion. Lee is clearly not fooling around
with a lot of phony melodrama. While Park Jin-hee (the court nurse in Shadows in the Palace) briefly appears
as a compassionate military RN, most of the film revolves around shooting at
the enemy. War is definitely Hell in 71,
but the film’s sympathies are clearly with the ROK. Despite Park’s professed
desire for unification, his ideals are constantly undermined by cruel and
craven political officer.

While many of the seventy-one student-soldiers
blend together, K-pop rapper T.O.P. (a.k.a. Choi Seung-hyun) manages to project
a slow-burning intensity above all the explosive bedlam surrounding him. It is
a dynamite screen debut that deservedly racked up a number of Korean popular
choice film awards. Frankly, he barely looks like he is out of middle school
himself, which lends the film further authenticity and poignancy. 71 was definitely his coming out party,
albeit one produced with the cooperation of the Korean Defense Ministry and
released to coincide with the 60th anniversary of the start of the
Korean War. Nevertheless, Cha Seung-won’s Park vividly personifies
condescending arrogance, while as Kang, Kim Seung-woo anchors the film with
steely gravitas.

Without a doubt, 71 is one of the best produced war films of recent vintage, ranking
just below My Wayand considerably above
Furyand The Front Line. It is viscerally immersive, but T.O.P., Kim, and even
Park Jin-hee maintain a strong human connection. Recommended for mainstream war
movie audiences, 71: Into the Fire screens
this coming Thursday (8/27) at the Korean Cultural Center in DC.

Friday, August 21, 2015

Macabro ’15: Cord

It turns out the looming Armageddon is considerably
more miserable than Mad Max let on. Sure, food, potable water, and fuel are all
scarce, as are dubious luxuries like hope and culture. To make matters far worse,
nobody is getting any. Due to the nature of the doomsday pathogen, survivors
have a deep-seated cootie phobia. Instead of anything physical, they seek the
services of tinkerers who hook them up for some electronically enhanced
auto-eroticism. Yet, despite their better judgement, a dealer and his latest
customer take matters offline in Pablo González’s
English language production, Cord (trailer here), which screens as part
of the science fiction and fantasy sidebar at the 2015 Macabro, the International Horror Film Festival in Mexico City.

For enough canned goods, Czuperski will wire
you up to a contraption that looks like no fun at all. However, his latest breakthrough
is the real deal. It is so potent, he is convinced only women will be able to
handle it. Tania the sex addict is willing to volunteer. It turns out to be as
good as advertised. In fact, it is so satisfying, she still comes back for
more, even after he copped a feel at the moment of truth. Remember, that
constitutes a titanic breach of decorum in this dingy, hermetically sealed era.
Nevertheless, Tania and Czuperski soon decide combining his implant stimulation
with old school physicality produces a heck of a result.

Yes, Cord
is basically a post-apocalyptic 9½ Weeks, but there is absolutely nothing sexy about its
wired-up bumping and grinding. Seriously, Concerned Women of America should
distribute copies in schools, because it will scare even the horniest teens
celibate. You feel like a tetanus shot after watching it, which is actually
quite a testament to production and set designer Nuria Manzaneda’s gritty, groody
low fi creative work.

Even at a mere sixty-five minutes, Cord often repeats itself. Nevertheless,
Christian Wewerka’s Czuperski truly commands the screen, while turning the mad
scientist stereotype on its head. He is totally flinty and vinegary, yet also
strangely vulnerable. As Tania, Laura de Boer is stuck playing a lot of When Harry Met Sally diner scenes. She
is more than adequate to the task in that respect, but her character remains
comparatively under-developed. Of course, you can hardly blame Czuperski for
being attracted to her. If she is not technically the last woman on Earth, she
is close enough.

Cord is nearly a two-hander, confined entirely to one
set. Perhaps it would have benefited the film if González had opened it up more. While some points are
driven home with compulsive thoroughness, there is no denying the power of
Wewerka’s performance and the bleakness of González’s vision. It is
an interesting film, despite and because of its flaws, but its subject matter
and running time will make it quite the programming challenge, so intrigued
viewers who happen to be in Mexico City with a little free time on their hands should
see while they have the chance. It screens this Sunday (8/23) and Monday
(8/24), as part of the Macabro Fantastico section at this year’s Macabro.

Thursday, August 20, 2015

Let’s Hear It for the Boy

Compared to the Mountain Vista Motel, the
Bates Motel is quite a going concern. Like Norman Bates, Ted Henley also has mommy
issues, but his absentee mother ran-off with a truck driver, abandoning him and
his shell of a father long ago. That has not helped his moral-ethical
development much. However, there is good reason to suspect the nine-year old is
naturally inclined towards sociopathic violence. We will watch as his nature
and lack of nurture lead to horrific results in Craig William Macneill’s The Boy (trailer
here), which opens tomorrow in New York.

The Bates Motel comparison is inescapable, but
frankly, everything about Henley screams future serial killer. Even his name
evokes memories of Bundy and Hinckley. As the film opens, Henley’s pa pays him
a quarter for each roadkill carcass he cleans off the mountain highway skirting
round their usually vacant motel. Henley has devised ways to entice more small
varmints to their death, hoping to earn enough money for a bus ticket to visit
his disinterested mother. Of course, these killer instincts will steadily
escalate over time.

William Colby is first outsider to get caught
up in Henley’s schemes. He happens to have the misfortune of barreling into a
deer grazing on Henley’s highway chum. With his car totaled, Colby will be
staying for a while. Decidedly not the former CIA director, this Colby has a
mysterious past of his own, which fascinates Henley for all the wrong reasons.

The Boy is a decidedly slow building thriller, but it
really does build, with the tension slowly increasing second, by discernable
second. This is only Macneill’s second full feature and his first as the sole
helmer, but it is remarkably disciplined. He shows the sort of mastery of
unitary mood Poe advocated for short story writers. Macneill never indulges in
cheap gore just to placate genre fans, but The
Boy is absolutely not a tease. When it gets where it is going, it is pretty
darned jarring.

Young Jared Breeze is perfectly cast as
Henley. A first blush, he looks like an innocent toe-headed scamp but when you
peer into his eyes, you see the psychotic hellion. Unfortunately, the film’s
midnight genre credentials mean David Morse will probably receive limited
recognition for one of his best film performances as the tragically in-denial
and self-loathing Mr. Henley. Rainn Wilson also does some career best work as
the erratic Colby.

In fact, there will probably
be a bit of an expectations disconnect for The
Boy as a former SXSW midnight selection released under Chiller’s theatrical
banner. It is an unusually accomplished work from Macneill and his cast that
would appeal to fans of art house auteurs, like maybe Refn Winding and Gaspar
Noe. Highly recommended for discerning horror and psychological thriller fans, The Boy opens tomorrow (8/21) in New
York, at the Cinema Village.

Macabro ’15: Hollow

Nature abhors a vacuum. So do vengeful
spirits. It is time for another lesson in physics and metaphysics. This one
comes from Vietnam, but the vibe is certainly consistent with the K-horror and
J-horror traditions. Innocent young Ai has not been herself lately and that
means big trouble in Ham Tran’s Hollow (trailer here), which screens as part
of this year’s Macabro, the International Horror Film Festival in Mexico City.

Rebellious Chi does not really know why, but
for some reason she distrusts her well-heeled step-father, Vuong Gia Huy.
However, she adores her little half-sister Ai, even though she feels like the
young cherub has taken her place in their mother’s heart. She takes it harder
than anyone when Ai drowns while she was supposed to be watching her. Yet, only
copper uncle Thuc understands how much he is hurting. To keep the film’s
emotional pendulum swinging, Thuc thinks he has good news. When he went to
identify Ai’s body at the big city morgue, he found her inexplicably alive on
the slab. Of course, after the accident Ai becomes suspiciously distant and
frankly kind of weird.

Hollow definitely starts with the child-and/or-teen
in jeopardy template, but Tran’s execution is tight and tense, abetted by the pungently
evocative atmosphere. He out Blumhouses most Blumhouse productions.
Theologically, evil is defined not as the opposite of good but as its
perversion. This is a principle Hollow illustrates
in spades. For a genre film, it employs some pretty deep archetypal symbolism
of innocence and vengeance, while simultaneously calling out Southeast Asia’s
most pernicious social pathologies.

Despite all the lurid and paranormal elements,
the ensemble is admirable restrained. As Thuc, Jayvee Mai sets the world-weary,
spiritually bereft tone. He really looks like the sort of guy who pops an Excedrin
as soon as he rolls out of bed. Young Nguyen Hong An and even younger Lam Thanh
My also contribute remarkably assured performances, setting a gold standard for
kids in horror films.

Although Hollow revisits some familiar Grunge-ish terrain, its secrets are distinctively
creepy. The full significance of its uncanny business resonates to an
unsettling extent. Life is hard in this spooky morality play, but karma is even
tougher, especially for the seemingly privileged Vuongs. Recommended for fans
of supernatural horror, Hollow screens
tomorrow (8/21) and Sunday the 30th, as part of Macabro 2015.

Wednesday, August 19, 2015

The Curse of Downers Grove: Most Likely to Die . . .

Thanks to the original Poltergeist film, nobody wants to build on ancient burial sites
anymore. Unfortunately, Chrissie Swanson’s high school was prefabbed in the
1960s or 1970s, when they were not so particular about defiling sacred ground.
As a result, a legend of a curse hangs over the student body, inevitably given
credence to many by the annual untimely death of a senior during the week
before graduation. Swanson is not superstitious, but a psycho-stalker gives her
very real and immediate cause for concern in Derick Martini’s The Curse of Downers Grove (trailer here), co-adapted by Bret
Easton Ellis, which opens this Friday in select theaters.

It is sad enough living in a burg called
Downers Grove. With a name like that, suicide and depression should be even
bigger problems than curses. Swanson is too level-headed for any of that. She
is a defiant unbeliever, despite her periodic visions of irate Native
Americans. Inexplicably, her single mom choses the notorious curse week to gallivant
off with her beau for a romantic getaway. Sure, she is entitled to lead her own
life, but if you live in Downers Grove, some things ought to be pretty high on
your worry list.

Of course, this gives Swanson’s obnoxious younger
brother and her trampy BFF Tracy an opportunity to throw a blow-out bash. However,
Swanson is in no mood to party after the local college’s star quarterback tries
to pull a Cosby on her at a frat mixer. Swanson manages to fight him off, but gauges
an eye out in the process. Evidently, this will not help his NFL prospects much.
As a result, the now one-eyed Chuck lurches into full blown psychosis. The
Swanson siblings, Tracy, and Bobby, Chrissie’s sensitive auto mechanic crush,
will have to hunker down and try to whether the storm.

In some ways, Downers Grove is sort of like a throwback to Kevin Williamson’s
glory years, but Elis and Martini deserve surprising credit for not
over-writing it. They never over-reach trying to sound hip and ironic. Frankly,
the film is pretty grounded, all things considered. Although it is nowhere near
as effective as David Robert Mitchell’s It Follows, but both films portray the young characters’ relationships with similarly
realistic complications and ambiguities.

Lead actress Bella Heathcote is not exactly
Maika Monroe either, but she is still refreshingly down-to-earth and forceful. Neither
a shrinking violet nor a scream queen, she shows some real screen presence and
backbone. As Chuck, Kevin Zeggers goes nuts pretty effectively. On the other
hand, Lucas Till feels out of place playing Bobby, as if he were afraid he
might get some grease on his clothes.

Swanson’s “if I had
but only known” voice-over narration is ridiculously heavy-handed, yet it sort
of fits the occasion for precisely that reason. Although it is a relatively straight
forward genre movie, Downers Grove is
not as horrifying as The Canyons or
as nihilistic as American Psycho. In
fact, it is reasonably effective in a VOD kind of way, arguably representing
Ellis’s best film work to date. While not a classic by any means, The Curse of Downers Grove holds a
strange, somewhat guilty, retro-nostalgic late 1990s appeal for horror fans
when it releases this Friday (8/21) in selected theaters and on iTunes.

Macabro ’15: Ava’s Possessions

Maybe you do not feel like a twelve step
program after having a demon exorcised from your body, but the fact that its
run by the Catholic Church should give it credibility. After all, it’s a little
too late for agnosticism. Those that do not enroll potentially face prosecution
for the crimes their bodies committed while demonically possessed. Ava Dopkins
pragmatically opts for group therapy in Jordan Galland’s Ava’s Possessions (trailer here), which screens as the opening night selection of this year’s
Macabro, the International Horror Film Festival in Mexico City.

When Dopkins comes to, Father Merrino is
praying over her and her mother is sporting a conspicuous eye patch. These are
both bad signs. Despite the incredibleness of it all, she soon accepts the fact
that she was possessed. Unfortunately, she has a lot of fence mending to do.
Seeking amends is also part of the Church’s program. Tony, their street-smart
hipster councilor also teaches them techniques to ward of re-possession.
However, at least one of her fellow group-members misses the feelings of power
and arousal that came with her demonic guest.

Although she really should know better,
Dopkins will help her rebellious friend perform a wildly ill-advised ceremony.
Unfortunately, the results will further complicate her efforts to find a
mysterious older gentleman, who may or may not be the source of the unsettling
blood stains in her living room.

Possessions sounds like another Exorcist spoof, like the amusingly meathead-ish
Bad Exorcists, but Galland takes the
clever concept and spins out a fully developed narrative, building up a serious
head of paranoia in the third act. For a horror mash-up, it is pretty darned
creepy, representing a dramatic step up from his inventive but inconsistent Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Undead.

Galland gets a major assist from the perfectly
cast Louisa Krause, who hits all the right sarcastic, confused, and angry notes
as Dopkins. As an effective counterweight, Wass Stevens is all kinds of badness
as Tony. Possessions also comes fully
stocked with colorful supporting turns from the likes of William Sadler, Dan
Fogler, and Carol Kane, as Dopkins’ father, her attorney, and a paranormal
bookstore proprietor, respectively.

Somehow, Galland
finds a way to make a case of demonic possession even more disturbing, while
generating a fair amount of laughs. Frankly, Eva’s Possessions is probably the film that most closely approximates
the vibe of the Buffy and Angel television series. It is witty and
self-aware, but it is all business when the dark forces strike. Highly recommended
for horror fans, Ava’s Possessions continues
its festival run tonight (8/19) and Friday (8/21), as part of the 2015 edition
of Macabro.

Tuesday, August 18, 2015

Gurukulam: Teaching Oneness in Southern India

Swami Dyananda Saraswati is exactly the sort
of spiritual teacher most seekers hope to study under. He is witty, charismatic,
and decidedly beyond worldly concerns. Yet, he functions in our terrestrial
realm with quite a high level of competency. It is easy to understand why his
Arsha Vidya Gurukulam ashram draws students from around the world for its celebrated
five-week course—and he is a major reason why they keep coming back. They might
not necessarily attain enlightenment, because that is the sort of thing you
never find when you look for it. Nevertheless, the Swami’s diverse students
will find some degree of illumination through his words in Jillian Elizabeth &
Neil Dalal’s Gurukulam (trailer here), which fittingly
screens this weekend at the Rubin Museum of Art in Chelsea.

Advaita Vedanta is the oldest school of
Vedanta, the Hinduist philosophical tradition to which J.D. Salinger subscribed
to sometime after the publication of Catcher
in the Rye. Frankly, Salinger was far more of a hermit or Stylite than the Swami
ever was. Despite renouncing the world, he is quite sociable and gregarious. Clearly,
enlightenment will not begrudge a little friendly conversation.

For obvious reasons, those most interest in Vedic
and Hindu religious thought will get considerably more out the documentary than
comparatively casual viewers. However, it is still rather intriguing as a work
of non-fiction filmmaking. At various points, Elizabeth and Dalal essentially
present the audience with a choice. They can either join in Swami Dyananda’s
meditation and visualization exercises, or they can remain spectators. They are
both valid choices, but you have to choose.

Of course, much of Gurukulam is devoted to quiet observation, but it is never as
hushed as Into Great Silence (a not
terrible comparative film). There is always plenty of life going on at the
Arsha Vidya. In fact, even to shallow agnostics, it looks quite livable for an
ashram nestled in the rainforests of southern India.

Indeed, this is an unusually transporting film,
submerging viewers in the sights and ambient sounds of Arsha Vidya Gurukulam
and its surrounding environs. Serving as cinematographer, documentarian J.P.
Sniadecki (whose are films are screening throughout Manhattan this week) has a
keen eye both for the big, symbolically loaded Samsara-esqueshots, as well
as the smaller, lighter moments of bonhomie.

Gurukulam will probably not inspire scores of new Vedic
adherents to flock to the Swami’s ashram, but that means all of us unabashed materialists
can feel safe watching it. It will definitely take you someplace you have never
been before. Once there, Elizabeth, Dalal, and editor Mary Lampson show a
shrewd editorial judgment focusing on telling details. It is a finely crafted
film under any circumstances, but there will be no better venue to see it amongst
a knowledgeable and sympathetic audience than the Rubin Museum. Recommended for
those who enjoy meditative and immersive documentaries, Gurukulam screens this Saturday (8/22), Sunday (8/23), and Monday
(8/24) at the Rubin Museum of Art.

J.B. Spins

About Me

J.B. (Joe Bendel) works in the book publishing industry, and also teaches jazz survey courses at NYU's School of Continuing and Professional Studies. He has written jazz articles for publications which would be appalled by his political affiliation. He also coordinated instrument donations for displaced musicians on a volunteer basis for the Jazz Foundation of America during the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina. Send e-mail to: jb.feedback "at" yahoo "dot" com.